


The Wailing Woman

by victurius



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, CODA 3x23, Coda, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-03 00:57:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16316069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victurius/pseuds/victurius
Summary: Lydia reacts to Allison’s death after the events of Insatiable.





	The Wailing Woman

Arriving back at Lydia’s house was disorientating. The Banshee could hardly recall the journey back, asides from the subdued roar of the car’s motor as it carried her, meandering the streets of Beacon Hills easily. It was almost as if everything around Lydia had turned to silence. If she hadn’t been a banshee maybe it would have gone unnoticed, but the usual hum of supernatural activity that bubbled just beyond the horizon of her consciousness almost endlessly seemed to have disappeared. It wasn’t entirely obvious to Lydia’s numb thought processes whether she should be thankful for that, or upset.

Lydia thinks that Kira calls out goodbye to her once the strawberry blonde is halfway up her own drive, but Lydia doesn’t look back, instead, she focuses every last piece of her concentration on putting one foot in front of another. Once she pressed her stylish heeled boots against the wooden flooring of her parent’s foyer with an audible “clack” Lydia allowed herself to enjoy the darkness that enclosed around her. Darkness was easy and simple. Just as the silence that now enveloped her had become somewhat comforting in the aftermath.

The light switch by the front door remained untouched and Lydia made her way instead forwards, up the familiar staircase by instinct alone. Her hands shakily clasp the bannister as she takes each step, afraid that in her current weakened state she might fall and hurt herself. It was a pure stroke of luck that neither of her parents were here to witness Lydia’s meltdown, both gone away for their anniversary weekend. Lydia couldn’t bear the thought of having to face them, of telling them, of having them know that…

The teenager immediately stops her ascent toward the second story of the detached house, her fingertips grasping the shiny wood railings for dear life, before she shook her head and regained her composure once more. In just a few short moments Lydia would be in her room surrounded by her familiar and comforting possessions, from her designer clothes to her expensive make-up set to her heaving book collection, there was no doubt Lydia would feel better once she got to her room. She just needed to make it there first.

The usually warm and inviting home of the Martin family felt increasingly col and vacant the longer Lydia spent winding her way through, torturously slowly. Maybe she should have asked someone to come in with her, spend the night with her, or maybe she should have avoided this at all costs and gone somewhere else. The petite young woman almost stumbled when she noticed there were no more steps, her right foot making an aborted motion forward, feeling through the dark for the ghost of a non-existent step. Immediately Lydia threw herself into a dainty sprint, hurrying down the narrow corridor to the pink door that indicated solitude and security weren’t far away.

An unsteady hand reached out for the cold, metal doorknob and before she can fully comprehend it it Lydia has finally reached her destination. A place where she had once broken a mirror at the sight of her own face, had woken her parents up screaming, had refused to cover her strangulation scars in a stubborn attempt at displaying her independence and strength.

Perhaps this room wouldn’t comfort her at all now.

Every happy memory associated with her home seemed to melt away after… After what had happened. Maybe Lydia would never be the same again. Every piece of furniture, every item of clothing, was a reminder of who Lydia Martin was and what had happened to her this past year. Of everything, a small insignificant, bitchy, whiny little brat of a girl had managed to survive. By luck or chance, who could ever know? Lydia had nothing to contribute in a positive way to her family, her pack or life in general. Even with her banshee powers, Lydia had still felt helpless as ever, sometimes she thought they hindered the pack more than they helped. She was inept, she was a liability, she was replaceable.

On the other hand, Allison this beautiful, warm, caring ray of hope in Lydia’s Martin’s foreign and ever-changing existence, was dead. Dead. A sob escaped Lydia’s mouth desperately as the word echoed over and over around her thoughts. She clasped a hand to her mouth unthinkingly and hurried forward to crawl ungracefully onto her ornate queen size bed, hoping she’d get there before her legs gave way. In the end, Lydia managed to twist her body around, curling in on herself on her side, almost foetus-like in her positioning, before pulling her arms in tight around her chest in a futile attempt to quell the thundering of her heart since it felt like it might explode out of her chest cavity.

Allison who was infinitely braver, selfless, albeit perhaps just as stubborn as Lydia herself, but who managed to join those traits together to create a sense of authority and self-assuredness, whilst remaining as gentle and forgiving as ever. Allison who had such a bright, brilliant spark that permeated her every action; her smile, the way her hand touched Lydia’s, the feeling of her smooth, cool skin crossing over Lydia’s in a way that caused electricity to spike and pulse up Lydia’s arm, that look in Allison’s eyes as she set her sights on a target and loosed an arrow, so focused, so sure.

And now Lydia would never see those things again. Never be able to feel those things again. Part of the problem was that Lydia didn’t know who to blame for that. The nogitsune was an obvious choice, but Mrs Yukimura had been the one to originally summon the Oni that stabbed Allison, but then Allison was only present tonight because she was trying to save Lydia. It felt like Lydia’s heart would break again as she remembered the way all her senses had completely heightened beyond anything she had ever experienced at the exact moment Allison’s heart stopped beating. The way the banshee’s body had expelled an uncontrollable, deafening scream, as though her entire being acknowledged the loss, not only mentally, but physically.

The thought caused Lydia to curl in on herself tighter, there was nothing okay about this and Lydia would never be okay again. Unable to do much else, Lydia buried her face into the comforter, mascara smudged and dripping heavily from her cheekbones as she cried. Cried was an understatement, Lydia wailed. She wailed for the loss of not only one of the most important people to her, but for such a person of pure light and kindness to have been extinguished from the world so carelessly. The death of Allison Argent would forever be ingrained in Lydia’s mind as the worst event of her life. Lydia was changed, and she would never be the same.

She couldn’t even hold Allison one more time before she died, couldn’t talk to her couldn’t say the words she really wanted to say. With all her strength Lydia clutched tightly to the fabric covering her body and whispered the only words she could in that moment, the only words that meant anything, the only words she would ever want to say to Allison one last time.

“I need you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please follow my tumblr and send me prompts! I'd appreciate it :)
> 
> [victurius.tumblr.com](http://www.victurius.tumblr.com)


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